Free White Ginger by Susanne Bellamy Page A

gear.”
    “Has Sanderson got something to do with what’s happening? Do you think he’s behind the break-ins?”
    Arne powered down the engine and brought the boat to a gently rocking glide close in to an orange and white buoy. Turning to Amelie, he shrugged. “I don’t know. But he’s capable of underhanded tricks. He didn’t build up his business by wholly honest dealings and practices.”
    He swung up to lope along the side of the boat to the bow, dropping the anchor over the port side to steady her against the light swell rolling in. Having secured the boat, he set about bringing up the diving gear from below deck.
    Amelie was almost morbidly fascinated as she watched him check air tanks, and sort through monitoring gear.
    “I forgot the underwater camera. Hang on a sec.” When he returned topside, he raised the camera to her, swinging it toward her by its strap. “All yours to control.”
    Her stomach spasmed at the sight of the speargun in his other hand, Jeff Jessup’s question uppermost in her mind. Did they really expect trouble out here? Or was the speargun for fish? Which was worse, Amelie couldn’t decide right now.
    “Shall we try this on you?” Arne hoisted the scuba tank, holding it ready for her, effectively redirecting her thoughts from one set of worries to another. Gamely, she agreed. She removed her sarong, dropping it on the bench behind and stood in her old black and white one-piece swimsuit. It was more suitable for diving than the new bikini. Turning back to face Arne, she noticed he’d half donned a short-legged wetsuit which hung from his waist. She was definitely scared if she hadn’t noticed that straight away. Did he wear a pair of swimming trunks under it? Her mouth went dry at the thought.
    Hold that thought, Melie. Lustful thoughts will get you through this ordeal.
    He moved behind her and held the weight of the tank as she adjusted the shoulder straps. Reaching around for the waist clip, he tugged the length of strap more snugly into place, his hands warm through the material of her swimsuit and reassuring in their strength.
    “You look after the camera. Photograph anything you think looks out of place. And anything you like as well. You might get some ideas for your paintings.” Handing her the camera, he helped her position herself on the edge of the boat.
    As he adjusted the heavy diver’s watch on his right wrist, she snapped off a quick photo of him. “You said ‘anything I liked’! Remember?” White teeth flashed as he smiled disarmingly at her. He tapped her on the nose then fitted her mouthpiece so she couldn’t say any more. He grinned again at her wide-eyed show of innocence. Just before he put his mouthpiece in, he added, “Relax. Just allow yourself to roll in.” With a thumbs-up, he took her hand and smoothly tipped backward into the sun-kissed waves of the Pacific.
    On the trip out, he had described the reef as a barrier reef, one of only two true barrier reefs in the Hawaiian Islands. “Rather like your Great Barrier Reef in Australia.” That reference reminded her of Victor and the shark. Ugh–that was the last thing she needed. Panicking was not an option. She concentrated on Arne’s flippers, following so close behind him she could feel the swirl of water created by each kick.
    He led her to an area between ten and twenty meters down, guiding her along a length of reef he was monitoring. They glided above massive lobe corals and flat, encrusting rice corals. Rich colors, amazing shapes, movement, life. Where to look first? There was so much to see, so much she wanted to photograph. Would she be lucky enough to spot the Humuhumunukunukuapua'a, the triggerfish with a snout like a pig? The name fascinated her. Arne had described how it blew jets of water to uncover food lying hidden in the sand. She wanted to see it for herself. Not that she disbelieved him, but she was curious to see if it really had blue teeth to match its blue spine. The prospect